Tee'd Off
by Adalind
Summary: Ranger has to spend the weekend at a golf resort schmoozing with clients & decides to take Bailey with him. She may be playing Amanda Dawson, English interior designer, but will she behave herself? An attempt to write humor after being challenged to do so
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I'm not sure how this happened; personally, I blame Robin. Her challenge was to send corporate Ranger to a swanky golf club and schmooze with clients for the weekend and make it funny. For some reason, Ranger thought that he could take his girlfriend, Bailey – albeit in her Amanda Dawson interior designer guise, and she'd behave herself. This is set after Reality Bites.

The theme of _Swollen_, is from my own weekly challenge on RM.

And Dark Knight fans, fear not... I'm working on the next chapter.

**Tee'd Off**

**Chapter One**

The mercenary curled up on my couch was engrossed in Soldier of Fortune, mug of Earl Grey tea in her hand. She'd shucked her designer clothes as soon as she'd walked through the door and was now clad in ratty combat shorts and a tank top. It seemed to me that she was not a fan of pretending to be an interior designer from London to gain access to my penthouse, or the public facing side of my life.

"… just for the weekend, babe. So what do you say?"

Bailey looked up and frowned. "What?"

I sighed. "This weekend, Cape Cod. Were you even listening?"

She turned the magazine around and shook it at me. "Look, weapons, shiny things, improved night vision rifle scopes; you said something about golf and I zoned out."

I sat down on the edge of the coffee table, plucked the magazine from her fingers and tossed it to the floor at her feet. "Listen to me for five seconds, please. I have to go to a golf resort in Cape Cod this weekend to snare a high profile client; I need you to come along as my girlfriend, and play nice with his wife while I play golf with this guy."

Bailey snorted. "Hire an escort, Ric."

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "Please, it's just three nights."

"So take Anthony, I'm sure that he can keep the wife occupied," she retorted. "Or send Lester and Bobby to confuse them."

Crap, why couldn't she make this easy for me for once? "I bought you some new clothes," I offered as an olive branch.

She picked at the frayed hole on the leg of her shorts and shrugged. "I'd rather have that new scope for my rifle."

"Christ, Bailey! Why can't my girlfriend behave like a normal woman?"

"Right, 'cos we all know how well it worked out when you tried that whole normal thing, Ric," she groused as she fished a pack of cigarettes from the side pocket of her shorts.

"Not in my apartment," I growled.

"For fuck's sake," Bailey snarled as she stomped across the room and snatched her keys from the silver dish by the front door. She paused, hand on the knob, then turned and marched to the fridge and pulled out a six pack of beer. Finally she grabbed her magazine from the floor. "I'll be on the roof having a smoke, and don't worry, I'll scramble the cameras in the stairwell so your men don't see me looking like a mercenary on a fucking government watch list."

I stood up and took a step towards her. "Bailey."

"Oh wait, I am a mercenary on a fucking government watch list! I should have stayed home; the guys and I were planning on watching a couple of films. Shit, if you wanted sex then you should have just come over to my place; I'm sick and tired of dragging my arse across town, Ric. I hate having to pretend to be something I'm not just to see you. I'll be back down here later," she snarled as she slammed the door shut behind her.

I winced as the front door reverberated in its frame and then strode to the fridge to get my own beer. Shit, she'd taken the damn lot with her; this was a fucking mess. I needed her to come to Cape Cod with me tomorrow; it was expected that I bring my wife or girlfriend to this little social get-together. I hated this side of my business, but as CEO, the honor fell to me.

Then again I guess I could send Anthony in my stead…

I pulled my cell from my back pocket and hit the speed dial for his sat phone; it went straight to voice mail, and I didn't bother to leave a message.

With Bailey sulking on the roof and my brother on the phone, I decided to go back to the paperwork that was burying my desk in my home office.

Half an hour, and the beginnings of a tension headache later, I tried Anthony again.

He picked up on the first ring. "Don't even try it, brother."

Huh? "Pardon?"

"I'm not playing nice with some moron because you can't get your woman to wear some designer dress and make inane small talk all weekend."

"How do you… No, don't bother, Anthony," I said with a sigh. "Why does she always have to call you when we have a problem, anyway?"

He laughed. "Because I'm used to dealing with your miserable ass and can offer sage and impartial advice to a friend in need."

"Bastard," I growled.

"You want my input, big brother?"

"Fine, you may as well."

"She's a mercenary, Ranger; cut her a deal, make it worth her while. Offer to buy her that new rifle scope she's after in Soldier of Fortune – it is very nice by the way; I'm tempted to get one myself. Or take a few more days off and go somewhere else afterwards, somewhere she'd want to go, somewhere she can be Bailey and not whoever it is you expect her to play when she's out in public.

"You can dress her in Gucci, send her to a salon and make her look real pretty, but at the end of the day, underneath all that crap, she's still Bailey, and she's getting tired of playing the game, man. You're gonna lose her if you're not careful; don't you think that she's already made enough sacrifices to be with you?"

"Anthony, I just…"

"Ranger, your lover is sitting on the roof of your building chain smoking, and reading by Maglite in the fucking rain, because at least up there she can be who she is, rather than be down there with you and be something she's not. Don't fuck this up, or you will regret it. I might not, but I digress…"

I growled. "Don't even think about it."

"Go fix this fucked up mess," he said sternly and hung up.

I did indeed find my lover on the roof in the rain. She was sat under the overhang of one of the ventilation ducts, bottle of beer in one hand, cig in the other.

I stopped a couple of feet in front of her and squatted down. "I've come to offer you a job."

She raised an eyebrow.

"We need to get close to a guy called Philip Anderson, and his wife, Jessica. The intel I have says that they're going to be at an exclusive golf resort in Cape Cod this weekend. I can make contact with Anderson during a round of golf, while I suggest that you try and get in with the wife over drinks or at the spa."

"I see," she replied.

"Clothes will be provided, and all expenses met for the duration of the mission. I've taken the liberty of ordering a new night vision scope for your sniper rifle; not that I think you'll need it on this job, but I believe it would be an excellent addition to your collection of hardware in the long run.

"I've also earmarked the company jet for Monday morning, just in case there is somewhere you wish to go for a few days R&R after completion of said job. So, can I expect your expertise on this challenging mission, Bailey?"

She frowned; clearly she wanted to play hardball. "I have a few conditions, Ranger."

I nodded, "Go on."

"I reserve the right to abort my portion of the mission at any moment if I fear for my sanity; at which point I shall retreat to the rendezvous at the nearest hot tub, and arm myself with a very large drink. I also demand time alone with my partner, specifically naked in a hot tub in order to conduct covert operations of a more personal nature. After completion of this hazardous job, I also expect to spend at least three days somewhere out of the way with a very sexy man and a large box of condoms. So soldier, what do you say?"

I smiled and got to my feet. "I think we have a deal."

"You can supply me with the hot bloke, correct?"

"I think I can handle that."

Bailey looked me up and down. "Are you trying to fob me off with some cheap imitation of a hot man, soldier?"

I coughed. "No ma'am."

She took another swig of beer. "Strip, show me what you've got to offer."

Shit, she was a menace to my sanity and libido. "Here?"

"Right here, or the deal's off."

"Fine," I gritted out. "I was not aware that you drove such a hard bargain."

"My skills are second to none, but I need to be sure that yours are acceptable also."

I pulled off my now damp t-shirt and tossed it to her. "Well?"

Bailey licked her lips and nodded. "Not bad, carry on."

I toed off my boots and socks, and then slowly unzipped my cargos; I had to push the wet fabric down my legs so I could remove them.

Bailey stood up and grasped my now swollen cock. "You know how to use this, soldier?"

I gasped as she squeezed hard. "Yeah."

"Pardon?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy. Now show me what you can do with it, and if I'm satisfied with your performance I'll consent to this mission."


	2. Chapter 2

**Tee'd Off**

**Chapter Two**

As we neared the colonial mansion that housed most of the accommodation on the golf resort, Bailey slid her glasses on and ran her fingers through her long blonde curls. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered.

"Just don't think about it," I offered. "Oh, and by the way, there's something in the glove box that I forgot to give you earlier."

Bailey popped it open and then cautiously prodded the small blue box that nestled among my handgun collection. "Is this what I think it is? Do I need to shoot you"

I laughed, "Maybe. Look, my prospective client owns a huge chain of jewelry stores, so I can't have you running around without some ridiculous sized rock on your finger. It's just another prop, okay?"

She removed the box slowly, held it at arm's length and then cracked it open. "Oh my fucking God!"

"It's just a prop," I reiterated.

Bailey nodded. "It's just a prop, it's just a prop, it's just a bloody expensive prop. Are you mental, Ric?"

"Chill, babe."

She looked at me suspiciously, "This doesn't mean anything, and you're taking it back once this job is over, understand?"

Did I tell her the truth? That the alternating diamonds and black onyx that were set in the band of the 2.5 carat diamond ring were a custom addition to the standard Tiffany design, or did I just smile and nod? I am such a chicken at times. I smiled and nodded at the assassin seated next to me. "Sure."

"Okay… hang on, this fucks things up."

I raised an eyebrow.

"We met four years ago, we've been dating for five months and we've been engaged for how long?"

"Yeah…"

"Very smooth, Manoso," she chided. "Let's say a week; that way we might get to spend some time to ourselves – you know, newly engaged and all that shit."

"A week it is. In case Anderson's wife questions you, how did I propose?"

Bailey snorted. "How the bloody hell should I know?"

I shrugged. "Well I don't know either."

"Okay, how did you propose to Rachel?"

"Her father threatened to shoot me."

"Well that's a fat lot of good, Ric. Okay… Is Carlos Manoso, CEO of Rangeman LLC a romantic?"

I raised both eyebrows in response.

"Crap, umm… Okay, how about this: It was my birthday last Saturday and you…"

"Tied the ring to my cock with a ribbon?" I offered.

Bailey almost choked with laughter. "Hell no! Let's just go with you gave it to me as a birthday present. Simple, no need for witnesses who happened to be at the restaurant we were never at when you didn't propose etc. Yeah, you just gave it to me when I got to your apartment last Saturday. You got that?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but men don't talk about that sort of thing."

She let out another sigh and slid the ring on her finger. "I still can't believe I'm doing this for you."

I smiled as I eased the Turbo to a halt by the front door and squeezed her hand. "You'll survive."

"Only because you're good in the sack and you owe me a shit load of hot sex, Manoso."

I shelved my witty reply when the valet opened my door.

"Good evening, Sir," he said politely.

I nodded, slid from the car and handed over my keys, before going around and opening Bailey's door for her. She graciously accepted my assistance, and stepped from the car in a haze of expensive perfume, before adjusting her wrap and then settled her hand in the crook of my arm.

We walked up the steps to reception while our luggage was unloaded and I squeezed her hand again reassuringly. She dug her fingertips into the pressure point at my elbow, and I slammed my blank face into place to cover over the fact that what she was doing really hurt.

"Play nice," I hissed as we stepped up to the desk.

"Good evening, Sir, Madam; Welcome to the Ocean Edge," a perky young brunette, who's name tag read Tracey, announced as she smiled sweetly at me. "How may I help you?"

"Reservation for Manoso," I replied as smoothly as I could muster while trying to prize Bailey's fingers off my arm before she dropped me to the floor. She'd picked one of the few pressure points on the body that could, when pressed for long enough, fell a grown man. I curled Bailey's little finger down and back, and then pressed hard; two could play at that game. She let go of my elbow in an instant, pulled free from my grasp, folded her arms across her chest and took a subtle step away from me.

The receptionist, who had completely missed our little power play for the position of top mercenary, frowned, clacked away rapidly on her keyboard and then frowned some more.

Bailey pushed her glasses down her nose, and stared coldly over the top of them at the woman. "Is there a problem?"

"It seems, well… I'm so very sorry, there seems to have been a mix up…"

"Explain," Bailey demanded.

"Mr. Manoso," Tracey replied, as she looked back to me and ignored my girlfriend. "There appears to be a problem, you don't seem to have a reservation with us for tonight."

Bailey snapped her fingers in front of the woman's face a couple of times. "Excuse me, I was talking to you."

Tracey jumped slightly and blinked "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Bailey maneuvered herself directly in front of me and drew herself up to her full height of 5'7" in her heels. "I asked you to explain what the problem is, not stare at my fiancé," she snapped tartly.

"I…"

"You were telling me why there is a problem with our room."

"I don't know what has happened, but your booking has been cancelled Miss…"

"Ms. It's Ms. Dawson. And I honestly don't care how or why your establishment has mistakenly cancelled our booking, but I suggest that you fix it. Now. Or do I need to speak to the manager?" Bailey announced haughtily, her English accent cold and clipped.

"We only have one room left," the young woman stated cautiously.

"And?" Bailey pressed.

"It's the honeymoon suite."

I coughed to stifle a laugh, and Bailey dug the point of her spiked heel into my foot for a split second. "And?" she said again. "If it was an inferior room to the one that we had booked then there would be a problem, but Mr. Manoso and I are happy to accept the free upgrade for the duration of our stay."

"It's not ready," the receptionist murmured.

"Well, then I suggest that you make it ready. I assume that you will provide the usual Champaign and other wedding accoutrements gratis to make up for the delay."

The brunette nodded swiftly.

Bailey turned back to me and held out her hand. "Your card, Carlos."

I handed over by black Amex, and Bailey passed it to Tracey.

She swiped my card and then returned it. "You'll need to fill in your details again, I'm afraid."

"No, you will need to find the ones that you lost," Bailey announced snootily as she slid my Amex into my jacket pocket. "My fiancé and I will be at the bar; I suggest you explain to them that our drinks are on the house while we are delayed by your appalling tardiness."

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry Ms. Dawson."

"Of course you are darling, you're paid to be sorry," Bailey stated coolly as she took my arm again and steered me towards the bar.

The barman was setting down the house phone as we approached. "Mr. Manoso and Ms. Dawson?" he asked hesitantly.

I nodded as I perused the selection behind the bar. "A Lagavulin for myself and…"

Bailey frowned and glanced over the collection of optics and chiller cabinets. "Chenin blanc; make sure it has been properly chilled. You can leave the bottle, and the Lagavulin too."

"Certainly ma'am. On behalf of the Ocean Edge, may I offer my apologies for the confusion surrounding your booking with us. Please accept these drinks as a small token of our appreciation for your understanding in this matter."

My girlfriend nodded. "Thank you. We will be seated by the window. Come along, Carlos."

I escorted her to a table in the corner, took her wrap and slid out her chair for her. "You are such a bitch."

Bailey smiled sweetly. "I know."

The poor waiter came over with our drinks and I passed him a couple of folded bills for his trouble. He nodded his thanks and retreated swiftly behind the bar.

I took a sip of the whisky and grinned. "I think I like Ms. Dawson the bitch."

Bailey raised an eyebrow and swirled her wine around in the glass. "Really?"

"Yeah, makes me wonder what she's like in the bedroom."

"Oh?"

I shook my head. "It's the voice; you sound like a strict governess and it's giving me goose bumps."

"I see. And I seem to recall that you have a slight penchant for strict women in your bedroom."

"Maybe."

"Well, if you are a very good boy then I might be persuaded to stay in character a little while longer."

I chinked my glass against hers. "You have a deal, Ms. Dawson."


	3. Chapter 3

**Tee'd Off**

**Chapter Three**

The honeymoon suite was simply amazing, and I thanked my lucky stars that my girlfriend had been a total and utter bitch to the receptionist to pull this off. It was interesting, because I'd never really seen this side of Bailey before; in fact, it was the first time we'd actually worked a job together in the field. Well it wasn't technically a job, but it was a rare sight to see her playing a role to get close to someone, to gain their trust and gather intel. She was going to do just fine this weekend, despite her reluctance to get involved.

Bailey had a very different way of working to any other woman I'd known. If I'd have taken say Stephanie or Jean Ellen with me this weekend then both women would have just been themselves. Bailey on the other hand, morphed into this snooty bitch from hell. She screamed class and money; just the sort of woman I'd be expected to be engaged to.

I bit back a smile as I recalled her reaction to the diamond ring; just as I'd suspected, she'd not been impressed. Her love certainly didn't come with a ring, just a box of condoms. And my love for her? It also came with a box of condoms; flavored ones if she was lucky. And a god damn expensive ring that didn't really mean anything other than I wanted to buy her something that wasn't military hardware. I was beginning to suspect that she'd have been more than happy with a new Ducati. Shit, I think she was more than happy just to spend time with me without either of our jobs encroaching on our personal life. Yeah, there really was no price for the love that we shared; freely given and received.

Bailey wandered out of the bathroom clad in the hotel's robe and with hot pink rollers in her hair. "How long until dinner?"

I glanced at my Rolex. "Half an hour."

She wandered over to the closet and began to flip through her collection of evening dresses. Eventually she pulled out two and held them up. "The red or the grey?"

"The grey; the red is a little too…"

"Slutty?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but the grey one is beautiful."

Bailey put the red dress away, and hung the grey one on the closet door. "I agree. You seen my makeup case?"

I glanced around the huge bedroom, but didn't spot it. "Try the sitting room."

She sashayed off and returned carrying a huge bag. "Could you help me?"

I snorted. "Babe, I honestly don't think that makeup is my specialty."

Bailey stepped up to me and gently traced the pad of her index finger over my eyelids. "I bet you'd look damn hot in eyeliner."

"I don't think so."

A wicked smile curled at her lips. "No, I do, I really do. Maybe a pair of leathers, fishnet top, and your hair down. We should go to a rock club; I know of a great one in Limerick. Then again, if you wore what I have in mind for hitting a rock night, then I honestly don't think we'd leave the hotel room."

"Or I could wear it anyway and we could stay home," I suggested.

"Now that sounds like a plan, but a plan that will have to wait for another day; I need to finish getting ready and I'm going to need your help."

"Still don't know squat about makeup, babe," I teased.

She shook her head and unzipped the bag. "Here, take this."

I accepted a small tub of gunk warily. "I know that you trust me with your life, but I'm still not sure about this; makeup artist is not part of a mercenary badass' job description."

"Yeah, I can tell that you were never in the SAS," Bailey replied.

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Exactly what I said, that you weren't in the SAS. Most of the mercenary guys I know from the U.K have a huge variety of skills, 'cos you just never know what you'll need and when."

I snorted. "Right, so remind me to book those flower arranging classes when we get back."

"Tosser. This," she growled, poking at the item in my hands with her finger, "is theatrical concealer; it's for my effing tattoos and scars, you twit. I mean I could go to dinner in a very expensive Vivienne Westwood one off with all my ink and battle scars on show, or you could help me cover them up."

"Ahhh, I see. Okay, I can do this, I think; does it come with a manual?"

"Yeah, it comes with instructions, Ric. One, open the jar-"

"Twist or pull?"

"I'll stick it up your arse in a minute, soldier. Two, scoop out stuff with a finger, and three, rub evenly over tattoos and other blemishes."

I studied the pot and then looked back to her. "Could you repeat those last two for me?"

Bailey unbelted the robe and let it drop to the floor in a heap. "I could, but I think that you'll learn faster through practice."

I looked her naked body up and down a couple of times. "Yeah… I see what you mean."

We were ten minutes late by the time we finally got to the resort's award winning restaurant, and I was not impressed by our tardiness. It did not give a good impression to my prospective client, and I hoped that it didn't reflect too badly on me or my company. Bailey discreetly scanned the room as we waited to be seen by the maitre de. No doubt she was checking over the exits and room layout; once a mercenary, always a mercenary.

The maitre de showed us over to the table and I was surprised to see that it was set for six, with another couple there also. Not part of the plan, but I guess that we were just going to have to work with that. The woman on Philip's left – next to an empty seat was, I assumed, his very young wife, Jessica. I suspected that she'd married him for his money, and he'd married her for her superficially enhanced looks. The other male was in his fifties, like Philip, overweight and wearing an ill fitting suit; his dinner companion looked to be about the same age as Jessica - early thirties, and possibly used the same plastic surgeon.

Bailey cast me a concerned glance, and I shook my head fractionally. "Not a clue who they are, babe."

Philip looked up as we approached and smiled. "Glad you could make it, Carlos."

"Thank you for inviting us here this weekend, Mr. Anderson."

"It's always nice to talk business on the green, rather than in some stuffy office, don't you think?" he replied as he reached across the table to shake my hand.

Anderson remained seated and didn't offer to introduce any of his dinner companions; did his mother not bother to teach him any manners?

Finally, I offered my hand to the other man. "Carlos Manoso."

"Hank Green," he answered as he took my hand in his pudgy one and shook enthusiastically. "Phil here's told me some super things about you, Carlos. It is Carlos, right? Or can I call you Carl?"

I retracted my hand and tried to look friendly. "It's Carlos, thank you. And this is my fiancée, Amanda Dawson."

Philip, sorry, Phil, looked her up and down and smiled; his wife seemed content to ogle me. Hank leered at Bailey, and his companion shot her a bored look, before returning her attention to my groin. I was thankful that the only gun I was carrying was in an ankle holster, and therefore not within easy reach. This was not looking like a fun weekend for either Bailey or myself.

"Good evening, gentlemen, ladies," Bailey said politely, as I pulled her chair out for her. "I'd like to reiterate Carlos' thanks for the gracious invitation to vacation with you this weekend."

"Darlin' you can vacation with me anytime," Hank drawled.

Bailey stiffened slightly, and shot him her blank look. I waited for her snide comeback to his comment, but she remained unusually silent. I hadn't checked her for weapons when we left, maybe I should have done.

"So," I said lightly, "What do you recommend from the menu?"

I was ready to stick a fork in my eye, or maybe Hank's instead, as that would have given me immense satisfaction. Dinner had gone downhill from the outset and I was surprised that Bailey was still seated at the table. The two gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, were under the impression that the female company seated at our table served only one purpose: eye candy. I, on the other hand actually appreciated a woman who could hold an intelligent conversation and had an opinion of her own. My girlfriend was seething with rage at being treated like an idiot by the two men, and also at being excluded from the majority of the conversations, that were, truth be told, not exactly scintillating in topic anyway. I was going to have to make this up to her later; she had mentioned covert operations in a hot tub before we left, and that concept was growing more appealing by the second.

I tuned back in to the current thread, a discussion that concerned ill advised business moves.

"And that Korean deal, Phil," Hank guffawed, "The shit's gonna hit the fan with that one, buddy."

Phil shot him a tight lipped smile. "I'm sure that it will be just fine."

Interesting. Maybe I needed to do some extra digging on the financial viability of my prospective client; I didn't recall any dealings with Korea in his Rangeman file. Bailey nudged me discreetly with her foot; looked like she'd picked up on his comments too.

"North or South Korea?" she asked.

Phil glanced over at her, clearly not happy to still be talking about this. "South."

She nodded. "Strong labor market, competitive prices; South Korea is a wise choice given the current economic climate. What did you invest in?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Little bit of this, little bit of that, you know what I mean?"

Bailey frowned. "No, I'm not sure that I do."

Phil looked very flustered and caught his wine glass with his arm. The red liquid spread across the white linen table cloth like blood splatter from a gunshot, and managed to catch Jessica's dress in the crossfire. She shrieked and scooted backwards, knocked into a passing waiter in her haste to save her gown, and ended up with half a tray of desserts down the back of her neck.

"You stupid fuck!" she yelled at the waiter, who was flapping around her and apologizing profusely. "Do you know how much this God damn dress cost?"

"Not as much as it should have done, but it's not a bad fake," Bailey whispered discreetly in my ear as we sat back and watched the show. This was by far the most enjoyable portion of dinner so far.

Jessica was causing such a scene that the restaurant manager had come running over and, along with the waiter, was now fussing over the irate woman.

"I feel another one of my migraines coming on, Carlos," Bailey stated dramatically, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead. "Maybe we should ask for the bill"

I patted her arm gently. "You did have the seafood; this always happens when you have seafood, babe."

She frowned, "I should make another appointment with Dr. Vesey when we return."

"Good idea," I replied as I signaled another waiter over. "Could you add our meal to our room bill please?"

The young man nodded, and swiftly removed himself from the chaos at our table.

I nodded to our dinner companions. "I'm afraid that my fiancé is suffering from another one of her headaches. Thank you for your company this evening everyone; I'll see you on the green in the morning, Philip?"

Phil smiled tightly. "Yes, I hope that this little display hasn't-"

I cut him off. "Think nothing of it, Philip. I'm sure Amanda would be just as enraged if that had happened to her Vivien Westwood haute couture."

Bailey rolled her eyes as she stood. "Possibly, darling, but you know Viv, I'm sure that she'd just run me up another one when she had a spare minute."

Hank's date's eyes widened at her statement as she studied Bailey's gown. She looked me up and down, then turned her gaze to Hank, and it was apparent to me that she was seriously considering a change in dining companions. Maybe the next guy she snared would be attractive as well as rich.

"Have a good evening," I said as I put my hand at the small of Bailey's back and escorted her away from the chaos.

We hit the lobby and Bailey stopped suddenly and burst out laughing.

"Babe?"

She waved off my concern. "Oh man, the four of them are fucking classic."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I think Anthony has more loose change in his back pocket than all of them have in the bank."

I nodded as we set off walking again. "Yes, I think I need to call my brother and get him to do a bit of research for me. This is not a contract that I want Rangeman to enter into without some serious number crunching."

Bailey slid her arm around my waist. "I certainly agree with you there, Carols. Anyway, you still up for investigating that secluded hot tub?"

"I think I can handle that, babe."


	4. Chapter 4

**Tee'd Off**

**Chapter Four**

"This one looks the best," Bailey announced as she poked the copy of the resort map that was spread out on the coffee table with her index finger.

I shook my head and pointed to another spot on the map. "I say we go for this one; yours is too close to that bar, and has very limited cover."

"And that one is very near to some of the villas, Ric. Besides, the bar will be shut by now."

I studied the map again. "There are a few security cameras in both zones; we need to keep that in mind. I still think my choice is the best. Oh, and I called my brother while you were getting changed earlier; he'll look into Anderson a little more for me."

Bailey leaned back on the couch and stretched. Her black t-shirt shifted as she moved, and exposed her abs and pierced belly button. She shot me her sex kitten look. "How about we toss a coin to decide this?"

"Rock, paper, scissors," I countered.

"What about," she said as she stood up and stalked towards me, "hide and seek."

I frowned. "Explain."

"Simple. Give me say a five minute head start, and then you've got thirty minutes to find me. If you find me then it's your choice of location, and if you don't find me within the time limit, then it's my choice. What do you say?"

"It's a very big resort, so I hardly think those terms are fair, babe."

Bailey turned back to the map and picked up the hotel's complimentary pen. "So we rule these areas as off limits," she said as she crossed out most of the map. "That leaves the grounds behind the main building, the villas on the north east side, and three pools with their respective bar areas."

I nodded. "No hiding in actual buildings or picking locks; you must be in a publicly accessible area. You must also pick a hiding place and stick to it; no moving around once your five minutes is up."

"Okay, we have a deal. Take a towel with you so if a member of staff asks what you are doing at one a.m. then just tell them you can't sleep and that you're going for a run."

"Nice cover," I said as I glanced at my watch. "So time limit is one thirty-seven a.m. Take your cell just in case you actually manage to evade me."

"You don't stand a chance, soldier. The only reason you found me last time we played this game was because you planted trackers on me."

"Clock's ticking, Bailey. And I still would have found you five years ago without the trackers; I would just have had to work a little harder."

"Bullshit," she laughed as she slid the lounge window open.

"What are you doing, babe?"

"Fire escape; this way I can avoid the lobby and the night manager. It's called being covert, soldier."

"Fuck you," I called out good naturedly as her black attired form disappeared out of the window.

"If I'm bloody lucky," she shot back, her voice faint as she vanished into the night.

I shook my head and got a bottle of water from the mini bar. All this rigmarole just to let laid in a hot tub! The woman was crazy, but I had to admit that it was rather fun. Not that I'd be adding this to the Rangeman training schedule anytime soon; no, the boys in the office did not need to know about this misuse of my mercenary skills.

So now I needed some tactics to find my girlfriend before I lost this wager. She hadn't specified anything about using technology to find her, had she? I could call the control room in Trenton and use them to get a bead on the tracker in her cell, but that didn't seem very fair. However, I did have something in my closet that might help give me the edge.

Hidden away amongst my golfing clothes was a small collection of hardware and technology that I'd thought might come in useful. Well maybe not for the job this weekend, but I liked to be prepared for all eventualities. You never know, the resort could have come under siege from environmental protestors concerned at the latest golf course expansion plans or something… Okay, so I was just a little too attached to my toys, and was possibly what Bailey called a paranoid little bunny. I was still alive after all this time, and it would look pretty shit if I got taken out by an old enemy while on vacation.

The small thermal imaging scope that nestled next to my night vision goggles was just what I needed to find Bailey in the dark. It was so sensitive that it would even pick up heat residue on anything that she'd touched in the last couple of minutes. I changed into my running shorts and a tank top, snagged a towel, my cell and the scope, and then slid a couple of condoms, my wallet and a pair of handcuffs into my pocket for good measure. Damn, I needed a bag for all this shit. This wouldn't do at all. I stripped out of my shorts and pulled a pair of black combat trousers on, and then stuffed my pockets with all the junk I needed, but left the towel; I'd come up with an excuse if I needed one. Finally with everything stowed away I checked my watch again; it was time for me to go hunt down a horny young Irish woman. Yeah, this was going to be good.

I slipped out of the window, down the fire escape, and glanced around the resort at night. Even though our room was at the back and overlooked the landscaped garden, the building exterior and grounds were still lit up like a Christmas tree. There was little, if no cover on the lawned area, to the left was a small bar and pool, and to the right was the majority of the buildings that remained in play on the map. What was Bailey thinking? Where would she go and how would she hide?

I set off to my right, my thinking being that she'd look for something obvious, in plain sight, and that she'd not squirrel herself away in a dark corner, as that would be the first place that I'd look.

I skirted around the now closed bar and headed towards the hot tub that she'd selected. It sat in a quiet corner out of sight from the pool and bar and wasn't a bad choice for late night visits; the chances of us being discovered seemed slim. There was no sign of her anywhere around this area, and places to hide were limited, so I pressed on and moved towards the cluster of self catering villas.

The dozen buildings all appeared dark; their occupants in bed for the night. I didn't want to be caught snooping around them too much. And Bailey? Would she risk being seen around someone's accommodation so late? I knew that she was a serious risk taker, but I still thought that I was looking for something a little more obvious. Besides, the single story buildings seemed to provide little if no cover anyway.

I glanced at my watch – Fifteen minutes left. So that left the small pool beyond the villas, or back the other way, in the direction of the third bar and pool. Or did it? There was always the front of the hotel. I knew that she'd gone out of the window to avoid detection from the staff, but that did not mean that she hadn't just slunk around to the other side of the building and found somewhere to hide there. In fact, according to the map, even though the entire frontage of the main building was fair game, she'd never mentioned that area in her negotiations. Did she leave it out by error, or did she do that on purpose to send me on a wild goose chase around the rear of the hotel?

Yeah, knowing Bailey I was betting on the latter. I jogged around to the front corner and stood in the cover of a willow tree. It gave me a good view of the main drive, yet I was pretty much hidden from view. There was an expanse of shrubs and more willow trees on either side of the drive; the perfect place to hide. I'd been played royally by my girlfriend.

I slid the thermal scope from my pocket, switched it on and scanned the ground on this side of the drive. Orange flared through the sight and I zeroed in on a large rhododendron bush. There was definitely something warm and moving in there, but I couldn't make out what it was. A few seconds ticked by and the splash of color broke free from its hiding spot and dashed across the lawn. I pulled the scope from my eye and looked again; it was a rabbit. Shit, and I thought that I'd found her. I glanced at my watch again: seven minutes left.

With my time limit fast approaching, I gave the vegetation one last quick sweep and then crossed to the other front corner via the back of the building. There was another handy willow in the same place; a security nightmare and maybe something I would mention to the resort security team in the morning. It would give a gunman a well concealed spot to take out anyone who arrived at the resort's reception.

I scanned the other side of the drive this time, and around fifty yards from the hotel entrance I picked up a spot of color at around eye level. I moved the scope up a fraction and I found my girlfriend; unless there was someone else hiding out in a large oak tree at nearly one thirty in the morning. Yeah, very doubtful.

I slid my new favorite toy back into my pocket and set off across the grass to the tree, then stopped at its base and looked up into the canopy. Bailey was curled up in the branches, a surprised look on her face.

"You can come on down now, babe," I called out.

"How did you do that?" she asked warily.

I shrugged. "Do what?"

"Walk around the corner of the building and straight to this tree. How did you know where I was?"

I smiled. "Magic."

Bailey frowned. "Bullshit, did you track my cell?"

I shook my head.

"Then how? If you want sex tonight, soldier, you better tell me how you managed to walk right over here."

I slid the scope from my pocket and held it up so she could get a closer look.

"Night vision?"

"No."

"You bastard, thermal imaging, right?"

I smiled. "Something like that. So seeing as I've now found you, I think it's my choice of hot tub, don't you?"

She snorted. "I don't think so, mate. I never negotiated on the use of military hardware in this operation, so this round is null and void. We're gonna have to do a rematch."

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared up at her. "We did not rule out the use of night vision, thermal imaging or other such items, therefore, by your own omission there was nothing to say that I couldn't use them."

"You cheated!"

"I did not cheat, babe."

"I demand a rematch; I want an independent adjudication on this situation, Ric."

"Well if you would come down from there then maybe we could go ask the night porter for his opinion," I teased.

"I don't fucking think so."

I put the scope away and slid my hands into my back pockets. "Look, just get down and we'll go back to the hotel room and have sex in the bed or the shower or whatever takes your fancy, you know like normal people would do."

"I negotiated this weekend's contract on the basis that I would get sex in a hot tub, soldier."

"And you may well yet, Bailey; there is always tomorrow night. Come back to the room with me"

She slid her cell into her sports bra, swung her legs over the branch, dropped to the ground and took off running. "You gotta catch me first!"

Shit! I tore after her across the lawn and hoped to hell that I caught up with her. While I could outrun her over long distance, she was a demon at the sprint; her body carried considerably less weight than mine did. Slowly I closed the gap as we chased about the lawn in the sparse light.

Her laughter carried clearly on the night air as she darted away from me yet again. I felt like a large cat chasing a gazelle; she had the speed, but I had the stamina. Finally, I could see that she was losing power and I was gaining on her. I made a quick judgment call and leapt at her. My body slammed into hers and I tackled her down to the damp grass with a thump. Instinct kicked in and I had my knee pressed to the small of her back before I even registered what I was doing. "Do you yield?"

Bailey laughed. "Fuck you."

She wriggled beneath me and I could feel myself getting hard. "I've got cuffs in my pocket, do you want me to use them, you little minx?"

"Do I need to beg?" she giggled.

"Maybe."

"Can I help you Sir?"

Bailey froze and I whipped my head around in the direction of the voice. What appeared to be the night manager was standing about twenty feet away, and he looked extremely anxious. Talk about not being aware of our surroundings; Bailey and I were almost slap bang in the middle of the lawn and visible from the hotel's large glass double doors.

"Bond enforcement," I declared as I jerked my wallet out of my back pocket and flipped it open to show him my I.D.

"Hey!" Bailey yelled as she squirmed underneath my tightening hold.

I slapped my cuffs on her and hauled her to her feet. "It's under control, sir; nothing to worry about."

The young man looked at both of us suspiciously. "Sir, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you both to accompany me to my office while I confirm all this with the relevant authorities; I'm sure you can understand that. Most bounty hunters do us the courtesy of informing the management if they are on our grounds for a capture. We do ask that you conduct your business discreetly for the benefit or our guests, and rolling around the front lawn is not acceptable."

What a fucking mess. How the hell was I going to get us out of this one? I squeezed Bailey's wrist gently as a signal to do something, anything, and she managed to burst into tears to buy us a little more time. The sound of a high-powered engine cut through the night, and I turned to look down the drive. A bright yellow Porsche cruised up the avenue and came to a stop in front of us. I wasn't sure how I was ever going to repay my brother for his impeccable timing, but I sure as hell owed him one now. I was not going to question why he had turned up, but I was damn thankful that he had.

Anthony stepped out of the car in a pair of board shorts, a ratty surf shop t-shirt and a pair of hiking boots. He looked at Bailey and myself and then to the manager, then looked back at me and shook his head. "Looks like I turned up just in time," he said with a shit eating grin.

"He's FBI," I told the baffled looking guy. "She's wanted by the Feds; I called him in when I confirmed her location."

My brother walked over, flashed some I.D at the man and held out his hand. "Anthony Stewart, FBI."

"Jason Freedman, night manager."

"Mr. Freedman, I thank you for your co-operation in this delicate matter and I do hope that we did not disrupt any of your guests."

The young man shook his head. "No, not at all. The Ocean Edge is always happy to help the FBI."

"That's good to hear, Mr. Freedman. Come along Mr. Manoso, let's get this hellion into a cell."

I nodded at Jason as I steered Bailey past him and over to the Porsche where we _bundled_ her into the back seat. When the doors were both shut, Anthony turned the engine over and looked around to me. "What the fucking hell is going on here?"

"He bloody cheated!" Bailey groused from the back.

Anthony looked well and truly baffled as he turned the car around.

"I did not cheat," I growled.

"You did, and can you pass me the key for these damn handcuffs?"

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" Anthony snapped as he steered the car down the drive. "And where the hell am I going now?"

"Use the staff entrance and then come up to our room via the fire escape with us. I'm going to have a very large whisky and then I'll tell you what this is all about."

"Don't you dare tell him!" Bailey screeched.

Anthony glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "Darling, whatever the hell you two were playing at, I think I saved both your hides, so the least you can do is give me an explanation."

"That sounds fair to me, bro," I agreed

"You can't do this to me," she grumbled.

"Babe, you're handcuffed in the back of a Porsche; I honestly do not think that you are in a position to negotiate."

She muttered something under her breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, Bailey," I teased.

"Did you know that paybacks are a bitch, soldier?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Tee'd Off**

**Chapter Five**

I poured myself a very large whisky and sank down on the couch. "I still don't know why you're here, Anthony."

He helped himself to some of the purloined Lagavulin and nodded towards his laptop bag. "Did some digging on your Anderson guy. Who did the preliminary work on his file for you?"

I frowned. "Not sure, research is just shared out among the crew these days. Why?"

Anthony dropped down next to me and propped his feet up on the expensive looking coffee table. "It's a front, well that's what it looks like anyway."

"What's a front?" Bailey asked as she wandered out of the bedroom, and picked up the half empty Chenin Blanc bottle from earlier.

"Anderson. His jewelry business seems legit at first glance, and I suppose it could be, but when you do a little bit of digging around, he's connected to all sorts of shit that's in the red," Anthony explained.

"So what does he want with Rangeman?" she quizzed and she sat down in the arm chair and took a drink of wine straight from the bottle.

"I don't know yet, but I don't think that it is going to be anything good," Anthony offered. "What are your thoughts on this, Ranger?"

I sipped my whisky slowly and sifted through information in my head. "I don't honestly know. He approached me to overhaul the security at all his stores, which in itself is not an uncommon request for Rangeman."

"Insurance scam?" Bailey offered.

I shook my head. "How?"

"New security contractor and one of his stores gets turned over? It must be your fault, right? Can you say lawsuit as well as a very large insurance claim? He could sink your business, Ric."

"He'd never get into our system."

Bailey smiled. "He might be a moron, but I could crack your system. All he has to do is find someone who thinks that they can, and offer them a cut of the insurance payout. Plus don't forget that he won't actually have lost anything as the heist would be a set up in the first place. That might help get his overall bank balance back into the black."

Anthony smiled. "I think you might be on to something there, kiddo."

I looked between the two of them. "Can we just get some more information together before we start dreaming up elaborate plans?"

"They're not that elaborate," my brother offered. "And for the record, I could crack the Rangeman systems too."

"I run a tight ship, Rangeman's security is damn good, and now you're both telling me that despite all that, my system could be compromised?" I growled.

Bailey shrugged. "We get half a dozen attacks a day on the main system, Ric. If I let you know every time some cyber menace tried to get into our servers, then I'd never be doing anything else. Besides, half of them are the effing government anyway, the cheeky bastards. It's fine, so don't worry about it. Besides, I can hack the system because I wrote it, and Mr. Genius over there understands how I think, so he'd know where to start. Anderson's got to be looking at only a handful of people who would even know where to begin with the Rangeman server, and I know who they are anyway. I also know where they live, so it's all cool, baby."

"Okay, time out," I demanded. "Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. I'll see what information I can get out of Anderson in the morning, Anthony, you get back to digging up dirt for me, and Bailey, you see what you can get out of the wife; you've a session booked at the spa with her while I'm playing golf."

She grimaced. "The spa? I hate you."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," I soothed.

"You still owe me, Ric."

Anthony laughed. "And the both of you owe me for earlier. So, who wants to tell me just what I interrupted on the front lawn?"

Bailey glared at me. "Don't you say a word, buddy."

My brother cracked his knuckles. "I have ways of making you both talk."

"You don't scare me, Anthony," she stated as she slammed the now empty wine bottle on the coffee table.

He grinned. "No? Well that's okay because I know of other ways to make you talk, little girl."

I turned to glare at him, jealousy coursing through me. "You will do no such fucking thing, little brother. Hell, I don't even want you thinking shit like that about my woman!"

Anthony laughed. "Been there, done that, man."

"Knock it off, Anthony!" Bailey growled, "Stop messing with Ric."

"Someone needs to tell me what happened earlier," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Fine, you want to know?"

He chuckled. "See, I knew I could get one of you to talk."

"Bastard," Bailey muttered under her breath. "I hate both of you, you know that? I'm going to bed and you can sleep on the couch."

"Thanks for the offer," Anthony replied.

"Not you, I was talking to Ric. You can sleep on the floor for all I care, Anthony Stewart."

"You PMSing, darlin'?" he teased.

"Fuck off!" she gritted out at she stomped off to the bedroom and locked the door behind her.

I got up to get a refill on my drink. "Thanks for that, Anthony."

He smiled. "No worries. Just pick the lock, bro."

I shook my head. "Not right now, she's got a knife under her pillow."

"She still a paranoid little thang?"

"For the most part, yeah. Some days she's better than others."

"So," Anthony said as he held his glass out for a top up, "You gonna tell me what on earth you two were doing on the lawn?"

I poured him another couple of fingers of Lagavulin and considered how best to answer him. "We…"

"Yes?"

And here goes my reputation. "We were playing hide and seek."

Anthony shook his head and then stared at me like I'd grown three heads. "What the fuck?"

I sat down in the armchair that Bailey had recently vacated. "Part of the deal Bailey set down when she agreed to this job was that she wanted clandestine sex in a hot tub one night. So we pulled out the resort map but couldn't agree on the location. In the end she suggested that we played hide and seek; if I found her then I got my choice of hot tub, and if I didn't find her then she got her choice."

My brother grinned. "I'd have agreed to any hot tub she wanted, man. Hang on, why were the pair of you rolling around the lawn?"

"Bailey thinks that I cheated."

"Did you cheat?"

"I used my thermal scope to find her in an oak tree with only a couple of minutes left on the clock. We didn't discuss the use of such items, so I figured that because she didn't rule it out, that it was fair game."

"But Bailey thinks differently, right?" my brother chuckled.

"She wants a rematch. She jumped down from the tree and took off across the lawn, and I'd just taken her down when the manager turned up. The only thing I could think to do was to pull out my wallet, flash him my I.D. and tell him I was bond enforcement."

Anthony nearly choked on his Lagavulin. "You two have all the fun. So the manager didn't buy your flimsy charade then?"

I shook my head. "He wanted us to go to his office until he'd verified everything with the authorities."

"Hah! You'd have been well and truly fucked then, Ranger; it's a damn good thing that I turned up when I did. I still think you owe me, brother."

I looked at him warily. "What do you want?"

"I'm sure that I'll think of something."

* * *

By nine fifty-six A.M. the three of us were standing in the foyer awaiting the arrival of Phil Anderson for my round of golf. Bailey was still smirking at my golfing attire; I guess that she'd not seen this section of my wardrobe before.

"It's not black," she giggled.

I looked down at my mint green polo shirt and charcoal colored trousers. "It's not that funny, babe."

"True, at least it's not pink," she replied as she nodded her head in the direction of my brother and his baby pink shirt.

"There's nothing wrong with pink," Anthony stated defensively.

"You just keep telling yourself that, Anthony," Bailey teased.

I pulled her close and dropped a swift kiss on top of her curls. "You behave yourself, missy."

"Make me," she whispered in my ear before she bit down gently on the pulse point on my neck.

I slid my hands over her ass and up to her hips. "Bailey, are you wearing anything under your dress?"

She pulled away and smoothed her hands over the simple black silk wrap dress that stopped short of her knees by a couple of inches. "Not a stitch."

I took a deep breath and willed my cock to remain unaffected by the image of me slowly unfastening the belt that held Bailey's dress together, of her standing there in nothing but her black spiked heel sandals. Shit, it wasn't working. I stuffed my hands in my pockets in an attempt to hide my growing erection.

Bailey looked down at my groin and licked her candy-apple red lips with the tip of her tongue. "Ooops, it that my fault, baby?"

"You are in so much trouble later, you hear me," I gritted out. "I'm going to-"

Bailey cut me off. "Save it, solider, it's show time."

Anderson stepped out of the lift with Jessica on his arm. "Carlos," he called out as he got closer. "Did you hear the scandal at breakfast?"

I shook my head, "I'm sorry, we called room service for breakfast. What did we miss?"

"The FBI was here last night! Apparently there was a wanted felon staying here; she was tackled on the front lawn by a bounty hunter."

Fuck! I managed to keep my blank look in place. "How exciting."

"It's appalling," Jessica piped up. "To think that some dangerous criminal was at the resort; we could have all been in serious danger!"

Phil patted her hand absently. "I'm sure that the standards of this place are slipping, you know."

"Did Carlos tell you that they lost our booking? The service here is not a patch on that of Gleneagles," Bailey stated, her English accent reappearing as she fell back into Amanda mode, and tried to change the topic of conversation slightly.

"Gleneagles' has a much superior course too," Anthony commented to no one in particular.

Phil turned to him and held out his hand. "Phil Anderson, CEO of Diamonds Galore. Maybe you've heard of my humble company."

Antony nodded politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson; you have an exceptional network of stores, sir."

"Oh, I'm very sorry," Bailey cut in. "This is Tony Stewart, my PA."

Phil looked confused. "PA?"

"Yes, and I don't know what I'd do without him; I'd never make any of my business appointments, would I Tony?"

Anthony looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was one of the few times in my entire life that I'd witnessed someone put him on the back foot. His only reply was to nod and shift uncomfortably.

Jessica looked him up and down appreciatively, and Bailey stepped up to her and put her hand on her arm. "Tony's gay, darling. He's still very pretty to look at, so I keep him around. Not a patch on my last P.A, if you catch my drift. Then again, I wasn't engaged to Carlos when Adam worked _under_ me. Maybe it's a good thing Tony's gay; Carlos gets terribly jealous, don't you, baby?"

I stole a glance at my brother; yeah he was not a happy camper. His face was blank, but I could tell he was pissed at Bailey.

"Why don't you ladies trot off to your spa appointment, where you can discuss that sort of thing in peace," I suggested tactfully.

"We're meeting Hank at the first tee," Phil commented.

"Oh, I didn't know he was joining us for our game," I said. How the hell was I supposed to get information out of him now? Then again, Hank did seem to have a big mouth; maybe I wasn't out of luck just yet.

"Well, we have room for one more if Tony plays. Do you play, Mr. Stewart?" Phil asked.

"He is supposed to be contacting George to confirm the wallpaper samples I'd FedEx'd over," Bailey responded.

"Amanda is an interior designer," I offered by way of an explanation.

Anthony pulled out his Blackberry and scrolled through a few things. "Darling, I contacted Mr. Clooney while you were getting dressed. He said that the teal was just simply divine and he'd like that for his hall."

"See, he's just fantastic, aren't you Tony, love," Bailey cooed. "You run along and play golf with the boys; I'll call you if anything comes up."

"Thank you, Amanda," my brother replied with fake sincerity, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Bailey shot him a sweet and innocent looking smile and then linked arms with Jessica. "Shall we, darling? I hear that they have a new masseur this season. Apparently, he's from Sweden."

Jessica smiled. "Really?"

"Oh yes. We'll see you gentlemen at lunch," she replied before leading Jessica away in the direction of the spa.

Phil shook his head and set off for the front door, and I looked to my brother. "It was the pink shirt that did it, man."

"The little bitch," he hissed. "Not only am I her freaking P.A, but I'm her gay P.A having imaginary conversation with George fucking Clooney! I'm going to kill her later."

"You could try," I replied.

"I could take her out."

I nodded. "Sure, whatever you say."

"Fuck you, Ranger; you're supposed to be on my side."

"Why?"

"Because…" he growled, "Because you owe me one, bro."

I rolled my eyes. "Come along _Tony_, we're going to be late."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **This chapter contains total and utter smutty kinky evilness. It's pure filth, so you have been warned. Guess my smut muse has come out to play.

**Tee'd****Off**

**Chapter Six**

The morning's round of golf had proved informative, lunch had been another painful affair and I now found myself back at the hotel suite with my girlfriend. We were planning on comparing notes and sharing any information we had managed to gather. Beyond that, the rest of the afternoon was free from any further commitments.

It was nice to finally leave Phil and Hank behind, and I was pretty sure that Bailey was glad to ditch Jessica, and Hank's date, who was apparently called Simone.

Within seconds of entering our suite, Bailey had tugged off her ridiculously high heels and tossed her tiny purse on the coffee table. She stood on the soft carpet of the lounge and wiggled her bare toes. "Oh man, that feels damn good," she moaned.

I squeezed her ass as I walked past. "You picked those shoes, babe."

"I need the height; I'm such a short arse."

"You're fine just the way you are. Do you ever hear me complaining?"

She smiled. "I guess not. Man, I need a strong drink, or some Advil, or maybe some Valium. I think I fried half my brain cells listening to that bullshit all morning."

"You learn anything useful?" I quizzed.

Bailey flopped down on the couch, her short dress barely covering her thighs. "In amongst all that shite and drivel, maybe a couple of bits of information."

The door opened and Anthony came barreling in; he looked decidedly grumpy. "I want a word with you, Bailey!"

She tipped her head back to look up at him. "Tony darling, whatever is the matter?"

"You bitch!" he hissed as he stalked over to the mini bar and pulled out a bottle of beer. "How could you do that to me?"

"Stop being such a drama queen. We had to introduce you as something, and I thought it better to associate you with me than with your brother and Rangeman."

Anthony loomed over her and glared. "I can understand that as we'd not discussed my role in advance, but why did you have to make me your gay P.A?"

"What's got you in such a snit, the P.A bit, or the gay bit?" Bailey laughed.

He ran his hand over his blond dreads and sighed. "I don't know, neither really, it's just…"

"I just challenged your masculinity, huh?"

"Yeah, why couldn't I have been your bodyguard or something?"

I handed her a glass of wine and she laughed at Anthony. "Sweetie, I did it for your own good; did you not see the way Jessica was looking at you? She wanted to eat you for breakfast and A. she's married and B. I don't think she's your type. The last thing Rangeman needs this weekend is for her to try and get into your pants. Telling her you were gay was just a way to keep her at bay."

I moved Bailey's legs, sat down next to her and then repositioned her feet in my lap. "I thought you told me back in Trenton that I should take Antony to keep the wife occupied instead of dragging you along?"

Bailey rubbed her heel across my groin. "I also told you to bring an escort, Ric. Besides, Jessica's a skank, so I suspect Anthony is actually pleased to be off the hook."

My brother sat down in front of us on the edge of the coffee table. "It has to be said that Jessica is not my type of woman, and I suppose you could say that I am marginally thankful for not having to fend her off all weekend."

"See, it's all good," Bailey said with a grin.

I rubbed my hand up and down her bare leg a couple of times. "How was the spa?"

"A mediocre massage, followed by half an hour sitting around in a robe with some green goo smeared all over my face and a serious crisis averted by my ability to lie through my teeth."

"What sort of crisis?" I asked, dreading her response.

"Well… there was this little problem with the massage."

"Bailey, what sort of problem?"

She parted the top of her dress up to reveal her left shoulder; her black tattoo was clearly visible.

"Oh," I said with a frown.

Anthony chuckled. "The massage oil worked like makeup remover did it?"

She blushed. "Something like that; I had a little bit of explaining to do."

"I certainly think you did," he said jovially.

"Well?" I prompted.

"I told them that when I was younger I went through a wild phase and dated a rock star – some obscure British one that I doubted that they'd ever heard of, and that back then I thought it would be cool to get a few tattoos. Of course I now regret this decision and have to spend a fortune covering them up."

"And they bought your story?" I asked.

"Hook, line and sinker; tossed in a couple references to shagging in the toilets at a few award ceremonies, loutish behavior, losing a few days to a cocaine haze, the size of this guy's cock and the like , and they were more than happy. Guess it's not what you know but who you sleep with.

Jessica once screwed a guy that had a walk on part in Sex in the City, and Simone did some bloke with a couple of lines in a horror movie. Me, I guess I topped them both with a bona fide rock star. "

I shook my head, "But babe, you didn't sleep with a rock star."

She smirked. "Maybe I should have said that I bent the truth a little, rather than saying that I lied."

"You slept with a rock star?" I asked in a mixture of bewilderment and horror.

"It was for a job, so I didn't actually have a relationship with him; just fucked him a couple of times. It was a cushy gig and it paid really well."

My brother shook his head. "What sort of weird ass job required you to sleep with a rock star?"

Bailey stretched, her dress riding up even higher. "If I told you…"

"Yeah, yeah," Anthony muttered.

I slid my hand up her thigh. "So you're not even going to tell me who it was, babe?"

"Maybe."

I moved my finger up her leg just a little higher and stopped short of the promised land by a mere inch. "Maybe?"

Bailey shot me a sultry smile and then turned to my brother, "Anthony, could you pass me my purse?"

He handed over the small black clutch, and Bailey extracted a $100 bill. She held the note out to him. "Don't you need to go to the bar and utilize their wireless connection or something, Anthony?"

He frowned. "Not really, there's wi-fi in the room."

Bailey rolled her eyes. "It's called a polite hint; now fuck off for a couple of hours, will you."

"Oh."

"Exactly," she said as she brushed her foot over my groin again.

"I'll be, you know…" my brother muttered.

"You better knock first when you come back," I informed him.

Anthony shook his head and headed for the door. "I get it; I know when I'm not welcome."

I turned back to Bailey."So?"

"Yes?"

The door clicked shut and I slid my hand back up Bailey's leg to the top of her thigh. "Where were we?"

She shifted closer to me, her legs parted a little more and her dress rode up even higher. "You're in roughly the right place; maybe about an inch higher and a touch to the right."

I kept my hand where it was. "So, you little minx, do you realize what you've been doing to me all morning?"

Bailey tried to look innocent and failed miserably. "I don't know what on earth you mean, Ric."

"The image of you in this dress has been driving me to distraction; it totally ruined my game. I didn't even need to tone my golfing skills down to Phil and Hank's level; they both beat me because I was so wrapped up in the thoughts of what I wanted to do to you this afternoon."

She rubbed her foot over my growing erection. "And what do you want to do to me, soldier?"

"I want to slowly unfasten that sexy little dress of yours, lay you out on this couch and fuck you till you scream. Then I want to tie your hands behind your back with the silk belt, bend you over the coffee table and fuck you some more. And then, if you're a very good girl, I want to tie you spread-eagled to the bed and do something very wicked with a wine cooler full of ice cubes."

"I think," she said huskily as she slid off the couch and stood in front of me, hands on her hips, "That you cheated last night, and that you also owe me for blabbing to your little brother. So I think with that in mind, I want you naked and in the bedroom on your knees in the next sixty seconds."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Bailey glared at me over the rim of her glasses. "Move it, soldier!"

Her English accent was back and a small shiver shot down my spine. "You sure you want me naked and on my knees?"

"Did I say you could speak?"

I shook my head.

"Do I need to spank you for your appalling disobedience?"

I shook my head again as I reached down to adjust my painfully swollen cock.

Bailey's hand shot out and she slapped me across the face. "I didn't give you permission to touch yourself, soldier. Get in that bedroom now!"

I swiftly got to my feet, skirted around the couch and made for the bedroom. Bailey in queen bitch mode was doing wicked things to my libido. I spent so much of my time in complete control of everything, and letting go and giving her total dominance over me was proving to be an amazing turn on. Who knew I had such a submissive side?

I stripped fast and sank to my knees in the middle of the floor. Bailey stalked in a couple of seconds later, high heels back on her feet. She then circled me a few times. "Not bad. What's your safe word?"

I bit my lip and considered her question. Finally, after some serious thought, I spoke. "Cactus."

"Okay, and your limits?"

"Nothing, not that I can think of," I replied honestly.

Bailey studied me intently. "You sure? I don't want you saying that because you're trying to be all macho, and then have you freak out and have some sort of combat related flashback on me if I blindfolded you or something."

"No, I can't think of anything right now, and I trust you to honor my safe word, Bailey."

"Good, I'm honored to have your trust. And I'm sorry, but it's not Bailey, it's Ms. Dawson."

"Yes, Ms. Dawson," I whispered.

She reached out and smoothed my hair back from my face. "Good boy, you're a very quick learner."

I rubbed my cheek against her hand and then kissed her fingers gently. "I don't want to disappoint you."

Bailey smiled wickedly, "I hope that you don't. Did you know that when I went shopping yesterday, that I didn't just buy clothes? I also stopped by a very kinky little shop on the corner of Seventh and Main. Do you know the one I'm talking about?"

I'd never been inside _Pleasure & Pain_ before, because I'd been pretty sure that they didn't sell anything that interested me. Sure Bailey and I have had a few vibrators for a long time now, but then so do most couples these days. I'd never pegged myself as kinky, just your average red blooded male who enjoyed sex. And Bailey, shit, I'd never figured her as a kinky little devil – well, okay, maybe I'd had a slight inkling, but not to the degree where she'd go shopping in _that_ store. "I know the one you mean," I told her.

"Good. You still sure that you don't have any limits?"

I nodded. "I'm sure."

She sashayed over to the closet and hauled a small metal ammo crate – the sort that would have originally held machine gun rounds - out of her suitcase. Now I knew why the damn thing had weighed so much when I'd loaded it into the Porsche!

"Hands behind your back," she ordered as she scooped last night's pair of discarded handcuffs off the dressing table.

I obeyed and felt the cool metal close around my wrists seconds later.

She ran her fingernails down my bare back, fisted a hand in my long hair and roughly tugged my head back. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to do this to you, soldier."

My cock twitched in anticipation and I growled low in my throat. I'd never fantasized about this before, but I think that I now had a brand new favorite dirty little thought. Both Bailey and her box of tricks were behind me and I had no idea what she was up to, or what that olive box contained. I could hear her sifting through the contents, and jumped when her fingers touched my lower back.

She grasped a hold of the handcuffs. "Spread your legs a little for me and lean forward until your forehead is resting on the floor. I've got you, I won't let you fall."

I shifted my stance and let her guide me forward. My brain was screaming at me, telling me that this was a very bad idea and that at any second I was going to head butt the carpet, but the hand on my wrists were steady and gave me the much needed reassurance that I craved.

Adrenalin was pounding through my body, with a small side order of fear or maybe trepidation along with it. Even so, I still wasn't prepared for what she did next. Slick fingers trailed down the crack of my ass, circled my balls and then moved back up again, lingering over my opening. She teased the sensitive flesh of my anus and I let out a yelp as she slid a finger up inside of me.

"Shhhh," she soothed as she ran her other hand over my ass. "You okay down there soldier?"

I swallowed a couple of times, my throat as dry as the Sahara. "Yes."

"Good, just relax," Bailey replied as she moved her well lubricated finger out and then back in again a few times. "Shall we see if you can take another?"

I tensed up and tried to move away from her hand automatically. My head didn't want this, but my traitorous body was beginning to really enjoy the strange sensations she was creating.

Her hand came down hard on my ass. "Stop moving! Apologize at once, you bad boy."

"I'm sorry," I choked out.

"Such disobedience," she growled as she thrust what felt like two fingers inside me. "I'm sorry, what?"

A strangled moan escaped my mouth and I started to sweat. "I'm sorry, Ms. Dawson."

"Much better. Now I have a little present for you."

Something cold, hard and slicked up slid over my ass cheeks, before she pulled out her fingers and pressed it against my ass. "Fuck!" I gritted out.

"Keep breathing, soldier, I know that you can do this," she encouraged.

I fought to keep my breathing regulated as she slowly and gently pushed something that I was sure was the size of watermelon, inside me. I felt full, stretched and whatever the damn thing was, it was pressed up against my prostate. "Oh shit!" I gasped.

"You okay?" she asked quietly and sincerely, all traces of her accent gone.

I turned my head to look at her kneeling at my side. "I'm okay."

"If you need it, use your safe word, understand?"

"I know and I'm fine," I assured her.

Bailey nodded. "Good, now let's get you upright again."

I looked up at her from my new position, she moved in front of me and placed her hands on her hips. "Nearly done."

I frowned and she just laughed at me before she opened her fist and showed me the cock ring that was in her hand. I was pretty sure that my balls were trying to retreat up inside me at this moment. This was not looking good for me.

"If you come," she stated coldly and calmly as she trussed my cock up nice and tight, "before I tell you that you can, then I will spank you so hard that you won't be able to sit down for a week. Nod if you understand."

I nodded.

"You are doing very well. Oh one last thing, soldier and then I want to show you something," she teased as she bent down and nudged the dildo.

Her fingers slid over the base and I realized what the evil minx was up to when it started to vibrate inside me. "You bitch," I hissed as sparks of pleasure shot through my body and my cock got even harder.

"You are going to have to work for that orgasm, solider," she told me as she came back and stood in front of me. "Unfasten my dress."

I looked at her like she was crazy for a couple of seconds, and then I twigged at what she wanted me to do. Slowly and carefully I leaned forward and took a hold of the silk sash between my teeth. After a couple of failed attempts, I got the belt undone and the black silk covering her body parted.

She pushed the fabric back and returned her hands to her hips. "Like what you see?"

Holy fuck! It seemed that as well as a massage and a facial, my evil girlfriend had also had a Brazilian. Her pussy was totally bald, smooth and sexy as hell. I didn't need her to tell me what to do next. I moved forwards and licked her delicate folds with the tip of my tongue.

She moaned and slid her fingers into my hair. "I knew that you'd approve."

I hummed in agreement and went back to the job in front of me. I was desperate for release already and Bailey was right, I really was going to have to work for my orgasm. She was going to pay for this later, but right now I was more than happy to let her dominate me like this. Yeah, I was a convert and I'd be her slave any day of the week.

She gasped and wriggled her hips as I bit down on her clit, and then tightened her grip on my hair and pressed me roughly against her. I knew her body well enough to know that she was perilously close to an orgasm. She had been dripping wet when I started; trussing me up had seemingly turned her on enormously. It was then that I realized that I actually held the power in this situation. Sure, I had to work for my own climax, but she was just as dependent on me for her own.

With a final sweep of my tongue and a sharp bite to her clit, she flew over the edge screaming my name. Her hands fell from my hair and I moved back to look at her. Her skin was flushed and her breathing erratic. Score one for me; maybe I'd get my own orgasm in a second.

"Wow," she managed eventually. "That was…"

"Amazing?" I offered.

She shrugged. "That'll do, I suppose. Do you want to come yet soldier?"

I nodded. "Please, Ms. Dawson.

Bailey reached down and petted my cheek. "You are so well behaved, and as much as I'd like to reward your good behavior, I've not quite finished with you yet."

"Please," I begged.

"Soon," she replied as she slid an arm under mine and helped me to my feet.

The plug in my ass shifted and I let out a moan. "Please, I need to come," I pleaded.

"Soon, I promise," she said as she guided me to the bed, removed the dildo and unlocked my wrists. "Sit down, back against the headboard, and do not touch yourself."

I did as commanded and watched her with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"If you misbehave then I will not let you come, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ms Dawson," I replied.

She moved away and returned with a condom. "You are mine, solider; no one will ever touch you again but me."

I nodded in agreement. Shit, I think I'd have agreed to hand over my controlling share in Rangeman, my collection of sports cars and all my money to her right this second. I wanted release so badly and this woman was the only one who could give it to me.

She rolled the condom onto my throbbing cock, climbed onto the bed, straddled me and then eased ever so slowly down onto my dick. "Now, are you ready to come?"

"Oh God yes," I moaned as I grabbed a hold of her waist .

"Good," she purred rotated her hips a few times.

She was so tight and felt so good. I moved one hand down to rub her clit and she let out a moan and changed her rhythm. She fucked me hard and fast and when I didn't think that I could take any more, she released the cock ring.

"Come," she breathed in my ear.

The mother of all orgasms slammed into me and I let out at hoarse yell as what felt like an endless stream of come spurted out of my cock. With another roll of her hips, she joined me in oblivion and collapsed forward against my chest.

Eventually, the world swam back into focus, Bailey gently eased out of me, and snuggled up against my chest "God, I love you so fucking much that it hurts," she said.

I tried valiantly form a coherent sentence, and eventually managed to respond to her emotional confession. "Love you too," I whispered.

I was battered and bruised, sore and worn out, but I had never felt so alive in my entire life. I reached down, kissed her hand, and looked at the diamond ring on her finger; Bailey would be keeping it forever because there was no way on this earth that I was ever going to let her go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Tee'd Off**

**Chapter Seven**

**A/N: **Includes Rangeman week 33 challenge response #1.

Bailey was in the shower when my brother knocked on the door of our suite. I answered in nothing but a pair of black silk boxers and an afterglow.

Anthony looked me up and down as he stepped past me, and dropped his laptop bag on the couch. "I'm not even going to ask what you have been doing, brother."

I shrugged. "Good choice, man. Let me get dressed and then we can collate intel."

"Cool, we could do with a fresh game plan before dinner this evening."

"Dinner?" I asked.

"At seven, in the restaurant, with dumb and dumber and their wives, girlfriends, whatever. Shit, what am I, your P.A as well now?" he grumbled.

"I can't afford your hourly rate," I teased as I left him poking around in the now rather sparsely furnished mini bar.

Bailey looked up and smiled as I entered the bedroom. "Hey."

"Hey yourself, babe. You okay?"

She nodded. "Peachy keen, Ric. Anthony ready to go over the intel?"

"As soon as I'm dressed."

"Cool," she responded as she tossed the towel on the floor and tugged on a black thong, a pair of ratty jeans and a tank top. "With a bit of luck we should be able to wrap this up tonight."

I frowned as I pulled on a pair of basket ball shorts and a Rangeman t-shirt. "You sound very sure about that."

Bailey shrugged. "Yeah, call it a woman's intuition."

"Let's stick to cold hard facts, babe."

"Whatever," she called out as she walked out into the lounge. "How's George and his teal wallpaper, Tony?"

"Fuck you," Antony muttered.

Bailey laughed. "You are no fun, Antonio."

"Vengeance will be mine, just you wait, little girl," he shot back.

I re-entered the living room and stepped strategically between my brother and my girlfriend. "Children, now is not the time for petty bickering."

"She started it," Anthony bitched.

"Fuck you, I did not," Bailey shot back.

"I'll make you both stand in opposite corners of the room for five minutes if you don't quit it," I snapped.

"Oooh, testy," Bailey giggled.

"And I thought he'd be mellow after sex," Anthony quipped. "Guess you did something wrong, _babe_."

Bailey growled and tried to step around me, but I checked her progress with my arm. "Sofa. Sit. Now."

Anthony smirked, but I glared at him. "And you, go plant your ass on the armchair. That is an order, both of you."

The pair of then sat down begrudgingly, and I joined Bailey on the couch. "So let's get down to business. Anthony, what have you found out?"

Anthony switched into banking mode and motioned for his laptop. "Do you want the bad news, or the really shitty news?"

I passed over the slim bag. "Crap, start with the bad and then follow up with the shitty."

He removed his computer, placed it on the coffee table and booted it up. "Well, like you said, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with the jewelry side of the business at all. Well financed, strong turnover etc. But what I'm worried about is the rest of Phil's investments. He's made a lot of mistakes in the last couple of years, and if the shit hits the fan in a couple of months, which I strongly expect it to do, then he'll end up dragging the jewelry business down to pay off a lot of the debts as he's still the main share holder in that. You could do the work for him and it would be all above board, but there is no guarantee that Rangeman would ever get paid. So with that in mind, I have to admit that I agree with Bailey's comments and that, worst case scenario, he could be trying to set up some sort of insurance scam."

I nodded. "Okay, what about you, Lee?"

Bailey curled her legs under her and rested her elbow on the couch arm. "His wife is a moron and she's being duped. She spent a lot of time telling me how wonderful Phil is, the designer clothes he gets her all the time, the amount of jewelry he chucks at her. Well, last night's dress was a cheap knock off; as was the one she wore today. She thinks that they're the real thing, so Phil's obviously lying to her. Why is he doing it? I suppose he's got money worries and he's trying to keep the truth from her. You don't buy your woman a knock off dress and tell her it's the real thing unless you're either A. broke, B. a bastard, or C. both. Well, that's what I reckon anyway."

I stretched my legs out in front of me and dragged my fingers through my hair. "Yeah, it's not looking good, is it, guys?"

"Hate to tell you this bro, but I wouldn't touch this guy with a ten foot pole," Anthony replied. "What do you think, Lee?"

Bailey cocked her head and looked at me. "Can you say big pile of steaming shit? Yup, it's certainly ten foot barge pole territory, Ric."

"So Rangeman walks away," I stated.

"Finish playing nice this weekend and then call him next week and tell him that your accountant uncovered some financial irregularities," Anthony suggested. "That way he doesn't lose face in front of Hank or Jessica while we are here, nor does it damage Rangeman's reputation."

"That's a plan," Bailey agreed. "And that means that I can naff off home 'cos I needed to assist George with his hall carpet options, or some such bollocks."

Anthony grinned, "And as you're P.A, you will no doubt need my assistance. I'll drop you off in Trenton. Or, we could pop down the coast to my beach house and catch a few waves and then Ranger can collect you on the way home."

Bailey's face lit up like a kid's at Christmas. "Hell yeah! We've not been surfing in months. If we get a wiggle on then we could still catch a few waves tonight, have a bonfire on the beach, sink a few beers and then catch some choice waves at dawn as the sun comes up. Perfect. I'll go pack."

"Whoa, just hang on a second here guys! If the pair of you think that you can abandon me, then you both have another thing coming," I growled.

"The mission parameters have changed," Bailey stated smoothly. "**We could negotiate. The price would be high.**"

Anthony shifted in his seat and then clicked a couple of buttons on his laptop. "I never signed on for anything in the first place, and I do believe that my work here is done. Unless, that is, I'm needed to keep the pair of you out of trouble with the hotel management."

"I'd rather not have to finish this charade off by myself," I said quietly. I couldn't believe that the pair of them were so swift to leave me here by myself.

"Like I said, I'm open to negotiations," Bailey reiterated.

I ran my hands though my hair, then rested my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands. "Fine. Name your price."

"I get to skip dinner tonight because I have a migraine, I don't have to spend any more time at the spa with Jessica and I get my quality time in a hot tub of my choosing. In return, I'll play nice at dinner tomorrow night – that's it, no more and no less. Oh, and I want a week off to go surfing."

"Make the pre-dinner drinks tonight and then cry off with a migraine and you can have a week off to go play in the surf," I countered.

Bailey pouted.

"I'll come over to your place every night for a whole week once you get back."

"Fine, it's a deal. You drive a hard bargain, Manoso."

"Okay. So, what about you, brother?" I quizzed

"I'll play a round of golf tomorrow, but I'm not going to dinner with those people, now way, no how. Oh, and I'm moving out; there's an empty villa that's come up by the pool," he said as he looked over at my girlfriend. "I'm due some down time, kiddo; we'll hit the surf on Monday for sure."

"Well, it looks like that everything is settled," I said.

Bailey frowned. "Shit, I didn't pack my surfboard!"

"You can borrow my spare," Anthony offered. "You bring the beer and I'll bring the boards."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Deal, Antonio."

I frowned. "Hang on; I thought that you wanted a few days off with a hot male once this job was over, babe."

"Anthony's hot," Bailey said with a cheeky grin.

"He's my brother," I shot back.

"And my ex. So what, Ranger? Besides, chances are that you'll be too fucking busy anyway. I'm better off opting for a week of surfing as that's more likely to happen. If I agreed to spend a few days with you afterwards then I'd be left high and dry after twelve hours as you'd have run off to save Gotham city from the Joker again or some such crap."

I sighed. "Whatever you want, babe." The sad thing was that she was probably right. My life was not my own.


End file.
